Interitum
by ChaosHasCome
Summary: She told him people could change. He wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe he was no longer a monster. But he wasn't sure he could. Wasn't sure he deserved to change. Because he destroyed everything he touched. Even her.


**A/N: Okay, so I am taking on WAY too many things at once here. But I was lying in bed, reading some fanfiction about Ryuuga and Hikaru (now there's a crack pairing if I've ever seen one) and this idea struck me. The plot was fully developed and I just had to write it. I sat up for three hours writing out the entire outline, plotting every twist and turn and hopefully, this story will be successful. **

**I do have some warnings for y'all though: Ryuuga will probably be OOC occasionally ONLY because romance is generally out of Ryuuga's character. He doesn't really strike me as the type to go searching out romantic relationships. So just keep that in mind. He'll mainly be himself, the arrogant, cocky, confident Ryuuga we all know and sometimes love. **

**Also, this story is AU, or alternate universe. Meaning, everything that happens after Gingka beats Ryuuga in Battle Bladers and Ryuuga leaves IS IGNORED. It takes off into a parallel universe after that and if that bothers anyone then just remember, no one is forcing you to read this. **

**Okay, I think I've rambled enough. Onto the story. Oh, and I don't own Beyblade/Ryuuga/etc. **

**Chapter One**

Escape

Ryuuga hated flying. Airplanes made him uncomfortable in a way nothing else could. The idea of gliding thousands of feet above solid ground, held up by mere air currents, made him more nauseous than he like to admit. It would be so easy for a single error to occur, a fatal mistake that could send him crashing to a painful death.

Ryuuga wouldn't have called it a fear, of course, because he didn't have any of those. It was more of an annoyance, a preference of the solid, unmoving earth to the flighty, malleable air. Of course, if he hadn't been weak to begin with, he wouldn't currently be sitting on this plane feeling like his stomach was inside his throat.

Ryuuga shifted uncomfortably in his cramped seat. Being overtaken by the dark power was the source of all his shame. He should have been strong enough to overcome the darkness with his own will. Ryuuga was a monster, true. All of the spirits shattered in his rise to power were of his own will, aided by the spirit of L-Drago. He hadn't been forced to break their hopes and destroy their beys; he had wanted to. It gave him a strange sort of pleasure to watch their strangled cries, and their desperate pleading left him with an addicting sense of power. But to be completely overwhelmed by that same bey he had been tasked to master, well, it was shameful. As a blader in heart and mind, spirit and soul, Ryuuga had his pride. Destroying everything in his way while out of control, trapped in the dragon bey's powerful jaws, was an experience he didn't wish to repeat. It left him feeling weak and vulnerable. Ryuuga did not like feeling vulnerable.

He had made the decision to leave Japan after Gingka freed him from the dark power, realizing he couldn't face the red haired blader or his friends. They had extended him mercy and he had given them pain. He couldn't stand the sight of them. Leaving the country would allow him to train without recognition as an anonymous blader. Los Angeles was large enough for him to disappear, big enough that the chance of being recognized was slim.

Ryuuga was jolted out of his thoughts as the plane hit a patch of turbulence, his stomach jarring painfully and its contents threatening to escape. The seat belt sign flashed neon orange as Ryuuga stood, making a beeline for the cramped bathroom. He tore open the door and stuffed himself inside, breathing heavily. His stomach was roiling heavily and he clutched at it, trying to stop its uncomfortable shifting. The plane dropped slightly and Ryuuga's dinner came racing up his throat. He barely managed to stoop over the small toilet in time.

He was bent over, retching, for only a minute before he regained control of his body. Rising up, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He flicked the cold water on, running his hands over it and cupping it into his palms. He brought the cool liquid to his lips and rinsed away the taste of bile. He ran damp hands over his feverish face, trying to contain the red flush creeping along his throat and cheeks. He dried his hands and flushed the toilet. Breathing deep, Ryuuga checked over his appearance in the tiny mirror over the sink.

His face was a light red and hot, either caused by the heated air in the cabin or relieving his stomach of its contents. He ran a long fingered, slender hand through his white hair, watching as it sprung stiffly back into place. His golden eyes were haunted, dark shadows smudging the skin below. His face was grim, his posture as immaculate as always. He had left his coat sitting on the airplane seat and his muscular arms were bare. He shivered and wondered if he was getting sick but dismissed the idea. Ryuuga could remember a time he had ever been ill and so his symptoms must stem from the stifling atmosphere of the plane.

The door rattled as someone pounded against it, yelling. Ryuuga growled and smothered the urge to punch whoever was obnoxiously rattling the handle. Ryuuga yanked back the door and strode past the middle aged man, knocking shoulders with him. The man staggered back with a look of contempt before rushing into the bathroom, where he, like Ryuuga, emptied his stomach.

Ryuuga was loathe to sit back down but his options were limited. The plastic scent of the chair gave him a headache. The large woman next to him was snoring loudly, a thin line of saliva dripping down her chin, pooling on her purple satin shirt. Ryuuga looked away, disgusted. The plane gave another sharp drop and Ryuuga clenched his fists. Leaning back against the seat, he tried to ignore the churning in his stomach and attempted to think of other things, tempting his mind away from the image of the plane crashing into the churning ocean.

~OoOoO~

LAX airport was busier than Ryuuga had expected. People pushed and shoved, some running, to reach their next flight. More than once, Ryuuga had found himself jostled and shifted aside like drift wood riding on a rushing river. Straightening his shoulders, Ryuuga strode forward towards the baggage claim. He did not stop, nor did he try to move out of the way, for the onslaught of passengers rushing towards the terminals until he reached his destination.

The baggage claim was busy, various people milling around searching for their baggage. Ryuuga spotted the lady in the purple blouse toting a large set of pink luggage away from the crowd. Ryuuga stood impatiently, arms crossed, as he waited for his small, black suitcase to appear. To the outside viewer, Ryuuga was the epitome of unapproachable and many gave him uncomfortable stares, shifting their gaze away when his gold eyes lighted upon them.

Ryuuga spotted his bag and deftly wove through the crowd, plucking it from the conveyor belt. Tucking it under his arm, Ryuuga left the airport behind, striding into the bright lights of L.A.

Ryuuga wasn't quite sure where he planned on going. He had no knowledge of the American city, although he knew that it was one of the largest in the world. He also knew that walking the streets at night in any city was a bad idea, although he wasn't particularly worried because he was _Ryuuga_ and anything stupid enough to mess with him wasn't worth the dirt on his boots. So he continued to walk, although he could have hailed a taxi. But Ryuuga had no intention of riding in an enclosed space with a questioning stranger, nor did he feel the need to pay someone to transport him somewhere he was capable of walking.

His strides were long, his pace eating up long stretches of empty sidewalk. He passed abandoned storefronts and quiet apartment complexes. He observed the night sky, noticing the thick, gray cover that dulled the black of the sky and blotted out the stars. The moon was a faint splotch of dim white hanging like an overripe fruit in the sky. The sidewalk below him was cracked and dirty, cigarette butts and dry gum littering the dusty concrete. He kicked aside the remnants of somebody's lunch, crushing the bag underfoot. Streetlights created pools of cold, yellow light that leaked across the ground. Ryuuga slipped between these illuminated spots, preferring the shadowy corners and dark stretches.

His walking remained unhindered well into the night, until he had left behind the bustling city and slipped into backwater streets filled with shuttered houses and fenced in yards filled with weeds and sandy dirt. He still hadn't a clue where he was headed, but was sure he'd find someplace to stay for the remainder of the night.

A noise erupted in the bushes beside him and Ryuuga's senses all perked to a hypersensitive alertness. His body remained rigid and he turned towards the source of the rustling slowly. He was surprised when a voice drifted out of the shrubs, rough and scratchy.

"You're new here, ain't you? I never seen you around here before." Ryuuga eyed the bush warily, deigning no response. He shrugged and began walking away. "You ain't goin' anywhere without battling me. Can't have no strangers walking my territory." Ryuuga stopped and restrained a snarl. He didn't want to battle this person- whoever they may be- because he hadn't battled since Battle Bladers and he wasn't quite sure what would happen if he started now.

A dark shape rose out of the bush. On closer inspection, Ryuuga noticed the slight, lithe build and squared shoulders. The man stepped into a pool of light, his features harsh in the white glow.

Ryuuga turned away. "I don't want to battle you. And you don't want me to battle you either. Trust me." He began walking down the road, destination still unknown. His shoulders tensed at the sound of a bey launch but he continued to stride in the opposite direction. The man pursued him a few blocks, trying to goad him into battling but Ryuuga restrained himself, knowing the potential destruction that could occur. He came here to train and remain anonymous; blowing up an entire neighborhood was unlikely to help his situation.

When Ryuuga reached the crossroads of two streets, the man finally gave up, yelling, "That's right! Run away! You're just scared I'd beat your ass into the ground! I never wanna see you 'round here again! You probably got no idea how to use a bey anyways!" Ryuuga froze and a rumbling snarl erupted from his chest, bubbling out of his throat to fill the thick night air.

Turning abruptly to face the man, he growled, "Don't tempt me. If you think for one second you are capable of beating anything, let alone _me, _you're a bigger idiot then I gave you credit for." Ryuuga strode towards the stunned man, backing him up against a gray building. The sides were filled with graffiti. Hoisting him by the front of his greasy shirt, Ryuuga slammed the man against the rough wall. "Don't think for a minute that I would hesitate to destroy you; I would break apart that silly bey of yours piece by piece until it was reduced to a pile of rubble. Then you would understand who you are dealing with." He pushed the man into the wall harder. "And then I would tear your spirit in half and spit on it, until every hope you've ever had lay broken in the dirt. And then I would walk away, leaving you crying on the ground. So _don't tempt me._" Ryuuga released the man, who immediately slumped against the building, terror prominent on his face.

Ryuuga snarled once more, forcing himself to walk away.

The man watched as Ryuuga disappeared into the humid Los Angeles night.


End file.
